


Mystical Mix Up

by SushiOwl



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bonding, M/M, Riding, Witches, Wolf!Peter, but not in a sexy way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-06
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2018-01-11 09:11:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1171292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SushiOwl/pseuds/SushiOwl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A witch decides that Chris and Peter need to spend a little alone time together in the woods. Also Peter's stuck as a wolf and everything's annoying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mystical Mix Up

**Author's Note:**

> Beta read by [WhatTheHale](http://archiveofourown.org/users/whatthehale).
> 
> I **do not** give my consent to have my works listed on goodreads.

To say he wasn't expecting to run into Peter Hale would be like saying he wasn't expecting it to rain in March. He hadn't packed pack an umbrella but that was no reason for the skies not to open up and pour down on him. He felt him there, lurking, so he didn't even turn and look. The other man would say something eventually when he wasn't acknowledged.

"Looking for something specific?" Peter finally said, robbed of his dramatic entrance.

“Just checking,” Chris replied, walking in another circle around the Nemeton. There were green buds poking through the dried cracks of the stump, and he was trying to decide whether he should pluck them or not.

“Mm,” was Peter's opinion, and Chris heard sticks break under his feet as he moved into the clearing and out of the tree line, but only because Peter wanted to be heard. “It's been a while since anything popped up.”

“Doesn't mean the power isn't still active,” Chris said, straightening up and turning toward the wolf. “Is there something I can help you with?” 

Peter took on a kind of lecherous smile. “Many things.”

Chris fought not to shiver, turning away. “That's not happening.” Once was enough, and it had taken an impressive amount of alcohol for it to happen. He doubted they were ever going to have another party to celebrate the kids managing to get through high school and go off to college, so there would never be another opportunity for Peter to get his hands under his clothes when he was too drunk and happy for his daughter to really mind.

“That's too bad,” Peter said, soft like a caress. 

So maybe Chris thought about it sometimes, usually when he was alone. He let out a quick breath through his nose, toeing one of the roots of the Nemeton. “For you,” he couldn't help but say. “I'm done here, so I'll just be leaving.”

“Stay a while,” came another voice, sweet and high, and Chris and Peter both whipped toward it, finding a young woman not much older than Allison standing on the other side of the Nemeton. She had dark hair, a pink shirt and a dark skirt with tall boots. She had her hands in her denim jacket. She was just gazing at them, smiling. 

“Who the hell are you?” Chris asked, wondering if he should lower his gun or not. He'd brought it out on instinct, and he could see Peter had his claws out too, surprised.

“No one of import. I'm just passing through,” the woman said, pulling her hands out of her pockets, and Chris very nearly shot her then, just for moving. Her fingerstips were black, like they were stained with ink. “You two are interesting though, a hunter and a werewolf flirting in the middle of the woods.”

“We're not flirting,” was the first thing Chris managed to say, as opposed to asking how she knew what they were or who she was again. Priorities. Peter made a little noise in his throat behind him.

The woman just smiled, holding up her hands to show she wasn't a threat. “Of course not. You two are a bit confused as to what you are to each other, to this place. Maybe you need some time to—mm—reevaluate.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Chris asked, his arms starting to ache softly from pointing his gun at her.

“Once you figure out your true selves, you can leave the forest.”

“And you're going to keep us here?” Chris's trigger finger tightened just an increment. 

The woman smiled, winked and disappeared.

Chris jerked his gun this way and that, looking for her, before he realized she was just gone. “Okay, that was new,” he said, lowering his gun and turning toward Peter to get his opinion on what she had said before he nearly fell backwards at what his saw.

Standing amidst shed clothing was a tall black wolf with steel blue eyes. The wolf tilted his big head at him like he wasn't sure what the reason for his staring was, before he glanced down and jerked backward. He looked around, back, and then walked in a circle like he was chasing his fluffy black tail. He stopped, sat down then looked at Chris with a sound like 'row?'

Chris holstered his gun. “Don't look at me. I don't know what's happening.” He looked around, figuring this was that woman's work. She must have been a witch or something, but now she was gone, or at least out of sight, which meant she wasn't around to fix it. “Come on, let's go find Derek or Deaton or something.” God, he was glad the kids had left for college so they didn't get dragged into this.

He turned away but a yap stopped him, and he looked back to see Peter nosing the ground, or more specifically where his shirt was lying on the ground. Peter looked up then nosed it again. “What?” Chris asked, watching him. Peter pushed the shirt forward again before lifting his head, and Chris understood. “I'm not carrying your clothes. It's not my fault you're essentially naked now.”

To that, Peter growled and planted his furry butt back on the ground. Chris just stared at him, contemplating leaving him. But honestly, Peter would probably break into his apartment and chew on things in retribution. “Fine,” he said, going over to pick up his shirt and pants—with not underwear just like he remembered—and his loafers. Seriously who wears loafers to walk in the woods? “You big baby.”

Peter's ears perked back up, and his tail wagged, before he seemed to realize what he was doing and stopped. 

Chris laid his clothes over his arm and held his shoes against his side, before he started walking. Peter walked next to him, the tips of his ears almost reaching his chest. As they walked back to the road, he kept looking at the wolf next to him. The fading light through the trees caught his fur and shone a steel grey or blue where it touched. He'd never seen Peter in this form before, but what he knew of werewolves told him that it was a rare trait for one to be able to attain full wolf form. Peter's surprise indicated it was new to him too.

They were about ten minutes from the road, but those ten minutes came and went and the road never appeared. “Okay, something's wrong,” he said as trees and brush stretched out before them. Peter gave a low rumble in answer, tilting his head left to right to check their surroundings.

Five minutes later they came into a clearing, and there was the Nemeton again. Chris froze in the tree line, and Peter halted next to him. “Well,” he said, lifting his hand to rub his chin. “I guess she was being literal when she said we couldn't leave.” He didn't know why he had thought it might be nothing.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and located Derek's number, putting it to his ear. It rang. And rang. And continued to ring for far longer than it should have, and he sighed deeply. “I don't know why I thought that would work.” He shoved his phone back into his pocket and looked at Peter, who was just sitting there and staring into the clearing. It felt weird talking to him like this.

“Do you even still speak English?” he asked him, and Peter looked up at him. “Not speak, I mean, comprehend?” The wolf tipped his head to the side, his ears twitching back then forward again. “Would you even tell me if you did, or do you delight in keeping me in the dark?” Peter huffed, and Chris narrowed his eyes at him. “I don't like you either.”

At that, Peter bumped his hand with his nose, and Chris pushed at his head. “None of that.” He walked into the clearing and dumped Peter's clothes onto the surface of the Nemeton. “It's getting dark, so I guess I should make camp. Here is as good a place as any.”

Peter trotted over, and Chris looked at him. “Does that mean you're going to help?” With another huff, Peter dropped onto his butt, and Chris pressed his lips into a thin line. “I don't know why I ask.”

For that, Chris built the fire on the other side of the clearing. It was a small one, but he didn't need much. He leaned against a tree and wrapped his arms around himself. Peter very stubbornly stayed where he was. He was furry anyway and didn't need the extra heat. Also Chris didn't care if he was cold. He contemplated using Peter's clothes as a pillow, but he didn't want to give the wolf a reason to bite him.

He played Flappy Bird on his phone until he fell asleep, happy his apps still worked at least.

He woke up to a cold nose on his cheek, and his hand shot out to smack the assailant, and he blinked as it yelped softly in surprise. It was barely even light out, and Peter was standing next to him with his ears back. “That was your fault.” he said, straightening up and pulling his jacket tighter around him. Didn't Peter know not to wake up a hunter? Well, it wasn't like he'd stayed until morning last time they'd slept together.

He got up and stomped out the last embers of his fire. “What do you want?” he asked, looking over to the wolf. Peter snapped his jaws twice, before he lifted his ears. Chris just blinked at him. “What the hell does that mean?”

Peter moved closer, headbutting Chris's stomach hard enough to make him 'oof' and knock him back a step. Chris grabbed onto Peter's ears and squeezed, noticing how soft his fur was. “Stop that. What, are you hungry or something?” He pushed at Peter's head, and Peter looked up at him with his cool blue eyes. “You want me to feed you? Are you serious? You're the apex predator. Go hunt.”

Peter stepped back, lifting his chin as if to say 'Fine!' before he turned and stalked off. Chris watched him go, and a smile tugged at the edge of his mouth. Oh, he had to watch this. He leaned up against a tree as Peter put his nose to the ground, not too close lest he get it dirty, and tried to find a scent. He looked strangely adorable rooting around in the leaves like that, occasionally pawing the floor of the forest.

Then he stopped, going stalk still as he slowly raised his head. About fifteen feet away, casually foraging, was a grey hare. Peter slowly inched toward it, back hair and tail raised high. Then his big paw landed on a twig with a snap, and the hare jerked onto its back feet, looking right at Peter. They stared one another down, the air heavy with its quiet, before the hare took off. 

Peter tore off after it, managing to catch up, but as he snapped his jaws in its place, the hare flitted to the right, and Peter fell over his own paws, landing with his butt in the air. Chris snorted as the rabbit zipped in front of him, Peter on its heels. It reached its burrow before Peter could catch it, and he tried to dig at it. Then he just whined, because the rabbit was lost to him.

Chris was laughing so hard that he was no longer breathing, holding his stomach and leaning over. He didn't even notice that Peter came up to him until he was headbutted again and landed on his ass. He was still laughing though. Peter stood over him with his dirty face and narrowed eyes. 

“You're like a big pathetic puppy,” Chris wheezed, smiling. “It's hilarious.” Peter glared down at him, before he started rubbing his dirt covered head along Chris's shirt. Chris swatted at him, laughing harder since Peter was embarrassed. “Stop! You asshole!”

Peter pulled away, but only after he'd gotten Chris completely dirty too. He shook himself, before he turned away and sat down. Chris looked down at himself, trying to pat away the dirt. “I'm going to get you back for that,” he told him mildly, before he pushed himself up. “I guess I do have to do everything myself.”

It wasn't difficult to make a rabbit snare. He always carried wire around with him for emergencies, and everything else he needed the forest provided. He set it up about feet five from the burrow and waited.

“I guess you didn't learn to hunt from your parents,” Chris said as he leaned against a tree. Peter looked at him, still pouting. “Gerard took me out into the middle of the Rockies and left me there with a backpack full of equipment.” He pulled his knife from his boot and started to clean under his nails. He wasn't sure why he was telling Peter this, maybe because the wolf couldn't talk back for once and had to listen. “I was seventeen.” He dragged the tip of his knife under his thumb. “I didn't want to become like him. I tried to shelter Allison from that part of us for as long as I could.” He lifted and dropped his shoulder. “Didn't last.”

There was a snap and a tiny scream, and Chris hopped up to look past the tree he had been sitting against to see a rabbit's twitching limbs as it was strangled. It had gone still by the time Chris reached it. He picked it up and released it from the snare, resetting it and carrying the rabbit back to the clearing. 

“I haven't had wild hare in a while,” he said as he laid it on the Nemeton and went to rebuilding the fire from last night. He glanced over at Peter, where he was still sitting in the treeline. “Are you going to stay over there and pout?” Peter's ears went back, and he bared his teeth for a second before he turned away. Chris snort. “Fine. You're the one that complained you were hungry.” 

Once the fire was built, he skinned the rabbit, cutting a slice down its stomach and just tugging the skin off whole. He wiped the knife on the one clean part of his shirt since it was a lost cause anyway. He thought about tossing it at Peter, because the wolf's back was still to him, but he wouldn't put it past Peter to lift his leg and pee on him while he was sleeping. As the smell of roasting rabbit filled the air, he watched the meat change from pink to grey and let his thoughts wander.

He wondered how Allison was doing at school. He talked to her on occasion, but she was busy. She was doing well in her major, she told him, taking a full load of classes as well as joining the archery team. Last he heard she was back on the list of backups for the Olympics. He was so proud of her. He didn't tell her that nearly enough.

The meat popping as a pocket of moisture exploded brought his attention back to the food. He rotated the rabbit and sat back, watching the meat brown. He started to wonder what the witch had meant by 'true selves'. If Peter's true self was an incompetent wolf, that was a laugh. But what did that mean for him? He hadn't changed. All he was was annoyed that he was stuck in the forest with a fuzzy Peter.

He didn't feel like he wasn't in touch with himself. He'd lost a lot in the past few years: his wife, his sister, his father. He and his daughter had redefined the Argent code. He'd worked with the werewolves more than against them, despite his better judgment. And he'd done it with grace, or so he'd thought. Minimal complaining at least. And if he still aimed his gun at them sometimes, well, they shouldn't sneak up on him.

He took the rabbit away from the fire, patting the singed meat with a finger. “Okay, it's done,” he called to Peter, tearing off a strip and blowing on it before he bit it in half. Well, it could use a hell of a lot of seasoning, but it was food. 

When Peter didn't appear in front of him, he looked up to find him just kind of staring at him pitifully, head hung low. “You're really not going to eat?” he asked, before he tore off another strip and held it out. “C'mon, it's—well, it's not good, but it's edible.” 

The wolf's ears went up, and he looked tempted, but he ended up looking away again. He turned on his big paws, laying himself down with his back to Chris.

It just made his sigh. He ate the piece of rabbit, thinking 'well, more for me.' It wasn't a satisfying meal, kind of like eating paper and gristle, but at least at the end of it he was full. He played around on his phone for a while until it beeped at him that his battery was at 15%. “Great,” he mumbled, before he turned it off to save the battery life, just in case. 

The sun was high in the sky when he got up and stretched, before he started walking. Peter lifted his head as he walked by him. “I'm going to the lake,” he said offhandedly, and Peter stood up, following after him. “Oh, now you're acknowledging me?” Peter jogged a little to catch up and walk next to him, and Chris caught himself in the urge to pet Peter's head. That was a good way to get himself bitten.

Chris was just trying not to think about how they could be stuck like this forever.

The area of where they were confined did include the lake, thankfully, because Chris couldn't wear this damn dirty shirt anymore. He took it off as he came to a stop at the bank, before he started dipping it in the water and rubbing the fabric together to dislodge the dirt and rabbit blood. Next to him, Peter drank.

He laid his shirt over a large flat rock for the sun to dry it and got himself a drink too. He was about to lie back on the cool grass when he noticed Peter dipping his paws in the water and trying to run them over his face. His bones weren't built the right way for cleaning his face like that, and it seemed to be frustrating him if the low growl that was starting up in his throat was anything to go by.

Chris should have been wary of him, this big creature of claws and sharp teeth, but there a small part of him that he liked to deny and ignore that told him Peter wouldn't hurt him. “Hey,” he said, scooting over to him, and Peter looked at him with his dripping nose. “Let me.”

Peter tipped his head to the side, looking surprised, before he just lowered his eyes and moved his head closer to Chris, who cupped water in his hand and lifted it to dribble over the top of his furry crown. He ran his fingers through the black-blue fur, feeling its softness. It was so like that night when he'd buried his fingers in Peter's hair that it was startling. 

Glancing up, Peter seemed to notice, but Chris just frowned at him. “Close you eyes,” he said, and Peter obeyed with an amused huff. He gathered more water and dropped it over his head, getting some on his jeans as it ran off Peter's fur. He wet his whole face and head, wiping away the dirt so that his fur shined under the sun. He rubbed his ear, and Peter tilted his head into the touch, rumbling deep in his chest.

 _Big puppy,_ Chris thought with a kind of fondness. “You're clean now.” He withdrew his hands, before he scooted away and laid down to wait for his shirt to dry. “Leave it to you to be finicky as an animal,” he mused, staring up at the sky. 

To that, Peter huffed and shook his head, sending a few stray drops of water onto Chris's belly and seeming proud of himself for it.

There was another rabbit in the snare when they got back to the clearing as it was getting dark. Chris skinned it and prepared it like he had the other one. This time Peter sat near, accepting pieces that Chris tugged off for him. When Peter licked his fingers, Chris pushed at his nose with a little laugh. 

Peter slept closer to the fire that night, and Chris fell asleep watching the flame light dance off his fur.

Everything was the same the next day, and Chris fought not to sigh too deeply. He knew he should have been doing some kind of soul searching to figure out what his 'true self' was, but he was honestly just hoping that someone realized he and Peter were missing and figured things out elsewhere.

There was no rabbit this morning. Maybe they'd gotten smart or there was a limited population. Chris looked at Peter. “Fish?” he suggested, and Peter's ears went up. 

Making a spear was simple enough with a knife, wire and a branch. It had been ages since he'd spear fished, but it was probably like riding a bike, hopefully. He took off his shoes and socks, rolled up his pants and waded out into the shallows. Peter watched him from the bank, perfectly dry.

He stood still, branch poised, as the fish with their limited comprehension swam around his legs. His first shot was a failure, but he quickly corrected himself and speared a different one. He held it up as it flapped around, before he tugged it off and tossed it on the dirt where it flopped then stilled. 

Peter looked at it, ears up. “Don't you dare eat that,” Chris called to him, and the wolf looked at him out of the corner of his eye. “I'm going to cook it, so leave it alone.” Peter huffed, tossing his head as if to say 'You're not the boss of me' but left it alone all the same.

He ended up with four fish, and he cooked them on a spit, before he laid two on some leaves in front of Peter. The wolf stared down at them, before he looked back up. Chris was blowing on his own fish, and he stared back. “What?” he asked, and the wolf glanced down pointedly before he looked up again. “I'm not hand feeding you. You have teeth. Use them.”

The wolf looked affronted, his ears tilting back, before he leaned down and went to take a bite. He jerked back immediately with an 'arr!', his tongue hanging out of his mouth a little.

Chris stared at him. “Did you burn yourself?” he asked with a bubbling of laughter, and the wolf growled at him, flicking his tongue. It just made Chris laugh more. “Poor you.”

Peter stood up, going over to the lake to cool his tongue.

Chris ate his fish and then flopped back on the grass to stare up at the sky again, his thoughts going back to the witch. “How do you think she knew about us?” he asked Peter, more or less just thinking aloud since the wolf couldn't answer. “Intimately, I mean. She seemed to know about what we did.” 

Peter moved over and sat next to him, staring down at him. Chris looked past his head through the trees. “I'm sick of all these magical beings knowing things. I want to go back to hunting things that are easy.” That made Peter let out a growl, and he snorted. “I don't mean you. I don't even mean werewolves, I just...” He covered his eyes with his hand. “Kanimas, dark druids, demons, wraiths, witches, everything is so messed up in this town.” 

Peter leaned down, bumping his nose against Chris's hand. Chris looked at him, at his human eyes in a wolf's skull, before he reached up and rubbed his ear. “I'm tired of being alone against it all. I want to help, not just show up when there are bodies.” He took a deep breath and let it out. “I should talk to Derek. It's been a long time since the Argents have had a truce.”

There seemed to be a smile on the wolf's lips as he turned his head and gently nibbled Chris's inner wrist. 

As they headed back to the clearing when the light was fading, Peter stopped as he caught sight of a third hare. Chris knelt down next to him, his hand on his shoulder. “Instead of coming at it from the top, try attack from the side, like real wolves do.” When Peter's eyes slid to him, he smiled and patted him. “Go for it.”

Peter did, tearing off toward the rabbit, which squeaked and tried to go in a different direction but Peter's jaws slammed down on its neck before it could go more than a few feet. Chris stood up as Peter pranced over to him, proud. He dropped the rabbit at Chris's feet, before he smiled up at him with bloody teeth. 

Chris had to pet his head. “Good job.” After cooking the rabbit, he fed some of it to Peter by hand again because he deserved it.

That night Peter huddled up close to him, and he had to smile. He ended up putting his arm around him, and Peter was so warm that it was soothing. He fell asleep listening to Peter breathe, in and out.

The next morning he woke up slowly, his dream leaving him like the trickle of sand through fingers. He didn't know what he had been dreaming about, other than the body against him...which was still there. He turned his head to find Peter's head against his shoulder, one of his arms thrown across his chest, and he was very, very naked.

Chris blinked. He was human again!

“Peter,” he said, using the arm he had around the other man to shake him. “Peter, wake up.”

“Mmn,” was Peter's opinion on that, and he turned his head more into Chris's shirt. A second passed, and his head jerked up, his eyes wide open. He glanced down at Chris, before he looked at himself. “Oh,” he said, very astutely. 

“Yeah, you can get off me now,” Chris said.

“Oh, but we bonded so much,” Peter said, grinning down at him.

Chris put his hand against his face and pushed him away, smiling despite himself. “Get dressed, asshole. Let's see if we can leave the forest.”

They could, thank goodness. They got to the road, and Chris gave Peter a ride to his car, which was parked at the old Hale property, before he went home, took a shower and charged his phone. He had one missed call from Allison, so he called her and they talked about her academics and archery training. He didn't tell her about the witch, but he would if anything more came of it.

That night his doorbell rang, and Peter stood there looking clean and suave and handsome and damn him. “You recovered fast,” Chris said, knowing his own hair was all over because he hadn't bothered to comb it. He hadn't been expecting visitors.

“The virtues of exfoliation,” Peter said, his eyelids lowered. He stepped close to Chris. “I had a question for you.”

“What's that?” Chris asked, standing his ground.

“Well... Fuck it.” Peter grabbed the sides of his face and pressed their lips together hard.

Chris didn't pull away, instead surging up into the kiss and opening his mouth to it. He sank his fingers into Peter's hair, tugging him into the apartment so he could close the door and not startle the nice old woman with the two rat terriers that lived across the way. His back hit the wall, and Peter pressed in close, their bodies aligning lip down to hip.

He could feel Peter through the sweats he'd thrown on after his shower, and his half hardness. It made him roll his hips, and Peter let out a growl not unlike the ones from his wolf. It made him do it again, and Peter's hands found his hips to grind against them harder. 

Chris tore his lips away from Peter's, breathing in hard. “Bedroom,” he panted.

“I remember where it is,” Peter said with that grin of his, before he took Chris by the wrist and dragged him to it.

Last time they didn't do much, just drunken rubbing together—well, drunken on his part, but Peter hadn't complained (too loudly). This time he wanted more. When they reached his bedroom, he went right for the bedside table, pulling out the lube and tugging off his shirt. 

Peter crowded up against his back, kissing at his shoulder. “What are you going to do with that?”

“Make it so you can fuck me,” he answered, and Peter let out a kind of whimper into his skin.

He turned and pushed Peter onto the bed. He dropped the lube next to him and undid his pants, pulling them down—noticing he forwent underwear again—and tugging them off with his shoes. Peter was wiggling out of his shirt as Chris pushed down his pants and climbed on top of him, straddling his hips. 

He took a moment to just look. Peter was the last person he'd thought he'd end up in bed with. Again. But he he was, flushed and wanting, breathing through slick parted lips. Chris wasn't going to say that Peter was any different now than he had been when he'd killed all those people, but he could say that he kind of trusted him. He would just have to see if Peter's good streak lasted.

He leaned in and kissed him, his hands working on opening the lube and slicking up his fingers. He lifted up onto his knees, reaching behind him and pressing two fingers inside without preamble. He welcomed the burn of it, gasped as it rolled up his spine and tightened his muscles before they released.

Peter licked his lips as he watched, looking very wolf-like as he sat up and mouthed at Chris's chest. His hands moved up his back then down to take hold of his cheeks and pull them apart. It made it easier to slide his fingers in and out. He flipped his wrist and moaned as his fingertips dragged across that hot spot inside of him.

Trailing his tongue across one of his nipples, Peter let out a hiss, “I think you're teasing me.”

“Maybe,” Chris said, spreading his fingers inside of him and dragging his nails through Peter's hair. Peter dug his nails into Chris's ass cheeks, and Chris let out a groan, before he removed his fingers from his ass and leaned back to dig through the nightstand drawer for a condom. After he ripped it open, Peter took it and fiddled behind him.

The slide hurt so sweetly, and he tipped his head back as he sank down, his mouth falling open. His arms wrapped around Peter's shoulders, and Peter's hands were back on his ass. It felt just like he thought it would, deep, hot and unrelenting. He was a hard press inside him, sliding against his prostate as he gave an experimental roll of his hips. 

Peter's lips were hot against his neck, his fingertips digging into his skin. He wasn't trying to control his movements though, which wasn't a surprise. Peter was the kind of guy that liked to see how things played out naturally. He had a kind of leisurely attitude that could have been laziness if he weren't so whipsmart.

He didn't bother working up to a fast pace, because when did he? He lifted his hips and dropped them hard, and Peter let out a kind of bark of surprise under him, so he did it again, and again. He didn't care that it kind of hurt at first, because it was riding on the back of white hot pleasure. He just wanted to hear what kind of sounds he could pull out of Peter.

They kissed hard, and Peter moaned into it, his nails scratching red lines along Chris's ass. Chris paid him back by grabbing his hair and yanking his head back so he could bite at his throat. Peter downright _whined_ when he timed a bite with a sharp slam of his hips.

Then there was a clever hand on his cock, and Chris's hips stuttered. He looked into Peter's eyes and found them shining with delight, and a flick of Peter's wrist had him gasping.

“Asshole,” he whispered, before he kissed him again and started alternating between fucking down on his cock and thrusting up into his fist. It was all heat and curling sensation and tightening in his muscles. It was all sliding of their bodies together, the slick friction, the clasping of their fingers. It was sliding lips and pumping hips.

Chris felt the twisting in low parts of him, but he wanted to hold back, to watch the explosion of pleasure cross Peter's face, wanting to see what he did to him. His hands on him gentled, holding the sides of his head as he pumped down and down again. “Come for me,” he whispered to him.

Peter's let out a stuttering moan, his brows going up, and Chris could feel heat filling the condom. He let orgasm crash down on him, holding tight to Peter and moaning into his ears. Peter held him around his back hard, apparently uncaring that he was splashing their middles with come.

Their breathing was loud and the only noise for a couple minutes as they leaned against each other and calmed down, the heat between them cooling into a sticky mess. Chris ran his fingers through Peter's hair, remembering the gentle wolf that he'd taught to hunt and knowing that creature was the root of the man against him.

He swallowed and drew back, looking into the cool blue of Peter's eyes. “You said you had a question for me,” he said, his voice a bit hoarse from moaning so hard. “Was that it?”

Peter laughed softly. “No. I was going to ask if you wanted to hunt a witch with me.”

Chris smiled. “Sure.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this all in one sitting, and my brain is fried but luckily [WhatTheHale](http://archiveofourown.org/users/whatthehale) was there to make it a readable story.
> 
> I've been advised to called this pairing Chreter. (Or Petopher. Petris?)
> 
> Tell me what you think!


End file.
